


Obviously Oblivious

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise is a dick, F/F, Fluff, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, New Year's Eve, side Dramione, side theville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 18:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12894321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: When Pansy returned to Hogwarts to retake her seventh year, she knew it was going to be hard. She hadn't quite realised how hard, though. And what was that annoying Weasley girl doing, butting in on all her classes?





	Obviously Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ChampagneandCountdowns](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ChampagneandCountdowns) collection. 



> Thank you to my alpha - you're a gift of the Gods and I'm never letting you go.

* * *

 

**Obviously Oblivious**

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy stretched her arms over her head and sighed, the satisfied sound of someone who had just been thoroughly ravished. Blaise let his hand trail over her stomach and she shivered, suddenly cold. She turned towards him, a soft smile on her face, and snuggled into his side. 

“Pansy…”

“Hmmm?” She snuggled closer and tried to reach for the duvet.

“Pansy, you need to go.” 

She sat up quickly. “What?” Her stomach dropped and she knew what he was going to say before the words fell from his lips.

“You can’t stay. I never let witches stay the night. They’ll see you tomorrow and I can’t… Just go, Pansy.”

Pansy swallowed with difficulty. She tried to read Blaise’s face, but his eyes were closed, and a moment later he turned his back to her, grabbing his duvet and wrapping it securely around his body. “Don’t let the door bang on your way out.”

“Why?” The words came out as a whisper, because she knew her voice would betray how upset she really was.

“I just told you, I never let witches stay the night. Don’t make a scene, Pansy, just go.”

Pansy started pulling on the jumper and skirt she had discarded only a short time before. The hurt made way for anger. It was easier to be angry. “You can’t what?” She asked, a little louder.

Blaise was already half asleep, and she knew he’d answer her, even if he might not have done so had he been fully awake. “Can’t be seen with you,” he mumbled. “Reputation. Just go, Pansy.”

Pansy clenched her jaw. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. Not until she was in her own bed, at least.

 

* * *

 

 

Theodore comforted her, keeping her company in the common room and even sending a Tripping Jinx in Zabini’s direction for her, making a fool of him in front of all their peers. That first kiss was unexpected, but his hands sliding up under her shirt set fire to her every vein, and she let him kiss her, kiss every inch of her skin, until any thought of Blaise was replaced by searing memories of him. She didn’t let him go much further, though. 

The next day, she gathered all her courage and went into the Great Hall for breakfast for the first time since the start of term. She slid onto the bench next to Theodore, smiling at him. Her smile faltered slightly when he ignored her. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. She ignored the stares, the whispers, the voices around her.

“What do you think you are doing?” He didn’t even look at her.

She sat back, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Theodore glanced at her, then around the Great Hall, where people were pointedly ignoring both of them. “You can’t do this to me, Pansy. If people know we’re friendly, I’ll be tainted, just like you.”

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest. “Tainted?” Her voice was shrill, but she didn’t care.

“Don’t make a scene,” he hissed, and Pansy was strangely reminded of the night she had left Blaise’s bed for the last time. “You shouldn’t have tried to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, then none of us would be in this mess.” His face softened a little. His eyes darted around, to check if anyone was watching them, then he quickly squeezed her hand before letting go again. “I know you were scared. What’s done is done, and we’re all just trying to build up a new life. I already carry the name of a notorious Death Eater. I have to think of my reputation, Pansy. I’m sorry.”

Pansy remained at the Slytherin table until long after everyone had left for their morning classes, unable to move, unable to eat, unable to think. Eighth year was going to be worse than she’d anticipated. Even her own housemates no longer wanted to be associated with her. This would be hell.

 

* * *

 

 

Ginny slid into the chair next to Luna’s. She’d never been one to spend much time in the library, but now sudden loud noises in the common room made her jumpy. The War had changed everyone, some for the better, some for the worse. The Gryffindor common room had become a perpetual party, even more so than before, and it grated on her nerves more often than not.

She pulled out an Arithmancy book and started reading the chapter she was supposed to prepare for the next class. But even here, in the Library, where silence was the rule, there were unexpected noises.   

The dull thuds of several books falling to the floor made her sit up with her wand ready to charge. She looked around frantically, then took a deep breath to calm herself down. It was only Parkinson.

“Watch where you’re going, Greengrass,” the girl snapped.

Ginny recognised the other Slytherin as Astoria Greengrass. She was kind and generous, and had, during the _Horrible Year_ , surreptitiously healed several students who had fallen victim to the torture of the Carrows. So it surprised Ginny to hear Astoria snap back at Parkinson. “Why are you even here, Parkinson? It’s not like anyone will give you a job, no matter how good your grades.” And with a scathing laugh, she departed, leaving Parkinson to face the wrath of Madam Pince, who just then rounded a corner and saw her surrounded by half a dozen books lying on the floor.

Ginny was even more surprised that Parkinson didn’t defend herself against Madam Pince. She just stood there, face blank, immovable, waiting for the librarian to finish. Ginny didn’t know exactly what made her get up and walk over. “It wasn’t her fault, Madam Pince,” Ginny interrupted. “Astoria Greengrass walked into her.”

Madam Pince eyed her with some suspicion, then shrugged and said, not quite gently, “Just get these books tidied up, Miss Parkinson. Be more careful next time.” A noise in another part of the library made her hurry off to find more mischief makers.

Parkinson bent down to retrieve the books, and Ginny tried to help her. They straightened up, each three books in their arms.

“Why did you do that?” Parkinson asked.

Ginny was taken aback by her tone. “Why didn't you tell her the truth?”

Parkinson let out a scathing laugh. “As if she’d have listened.” Her lips curled with disdain. “I didn’t need a Weasley to rescue me.”

Ginny bristled. “I’ll certainly think twice before I help you again,” she snapped.

Pansy smirked at her. “You wanted to help?” She placed her three books on top of the three Ginny was already holding. “You put these back then. Thanks, Weasley. Much appreciated.” And with another laugh cutting through the silence of the Library, she was gone.

Ginny returned to the table, seething with anger. She dropped the stack of books unceremoniously on a chair and plopped back down.

“That was nice of you,” Luna said, a smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah, well, no good deed and all that. Remind me, next time, not to expect gratitude.” She kicked the chair with the books. They teetered precariously but didn’t fall.

“You think she wasn’t grateful?”

Ginny snorted. “Hardly. I don’t even know why I went over there. Stuck up bitch deserved what she got.”

Luna shook her head in mild rebuke. “You look, Ginny, but you don’t always see.” 

Ginny looked at her, frowning in confusion, but Luna made no attempt to explain. Ginny kicked the chair again, and this time the books came tumbling down.

She could hear Madam Pince’s hurried footsteps long before the rebuke. “Miss Weasley, what _do_ you think you are doing?”

 

* * *

 

Luna never did explain what she’d said, but Ginny remembered and thought about it for a long time. Had Luna seen something she had missed? It annoyed her that she didn’t know and she didn’t understand. She began to observe Parkinson more closely. 

At first, it looked like Parkinson was still the same old bully from before the War. She strode through the hallways, making people jump out of her way or hexing them until they moved, her chin up in the air and defiance in her eyes.

But little by little she began to see that something was different. She didn’t have her gaggle of friends with her. She always sat alone in any classes they shared. The people she hexed were usually trying to hex her first. This Parkinson wasn’t a bully. She was ostracised by her House. She never joined them for any meals. They never talked to her in class. Even the teachers seemed to ignore her. And though she wore a mask of indifference through it all, Ginny occasionally saw the flash of hurt that crossed her face at yet another snub, yet another cut from people she used to be friends with.

Ginny became curious, and she let her curiosity get the better of her when Slughorn asked his students to pair up in mixed-House pairs for a new project that would count towards their NEWTs. She saw several people try to catch her eye, but she ignored them all and slid into the empty seat next to Parkinson.

“What are you doing, Weasley?” Parkinson didn’t even look up from her notes, her bobbed black hair falling down and shielding her face from the curious onlookers.

“Professor Slughorn asked us to pair up.” Ginny placed her cauldron on their bench and began to unpack her own notes and quills. “Thought it might be a good idea to pair up with you.” She noticed the sudden stiffness in Parkinson’s shoulders, fists clenching and unclenching.

“I don’t know what I did to offend you, Weasley, but if you tank this project I will hex your arse to the next century, I swear to Merlin.”

The hissed words surprised Ginny, and in a flash she understood. She shuffled a little closer to Parkinson and whispered in her ear, “I’m not doing this to ruin the project. I need good grades, too. I thought you were fairly good at Potions. There’s no nefarious plan behind this, Parkinson. I don’t have time for such games.”

The tension in her shoulders didn’t disappear, but she did turn her head, as if to read Ginny’s face. Ginny hadn’t realised how close they were exactly and was very conscious of the scent of lavender and mint, and how bright Pansy’s eyes were, a curious combination of sea green and hazel, and the light dusting of freckles on Pansy’s nose. She swallowed. But a moment later, Pansy had turned back to her notes and a curtain of black hair hid her face from view.

Ginny let her breath escape slowly and tried to focus on the task they were given. She failed miserably.

 

* * *

 

Pansy pursed her lips together and tried not to think of the Gryffindor sitting next to her. After pairing up in Potions, Weasley had continued to sit next to her in every class they shared. She just smiled at Pansy, slid into the seat next to her, and then said nothing for the whole class, except a whispered, “What was that McGonagall said?” to add something to her own notes. 

Pansy wasn’t sure what the Gryffindor’s end-game was. She didn’t believe there wasn’t one, even though Weasley had looked genuine when she’d said so. Classes had become more bearable, though. She no longer fell victim to wads of parchment being thrown at her head. People stopped poking her in the back just when she was dipping her quill into the inkwell. When Weasley walked with her through the Hogwarts corridors, nobody tried to hex her. They didn’t speak, not really. But they shared an understanding of sorts. When her brother was humiliated in Defense Against the Dark Arts, disarmed within seconds by Granger, she’d smirked at Pansy, as if to say, what an idiot, and Pansy had grinned back before she could stop herself.

The Potions project was going well, too. Weasley had a good insight and a steady hand with the ingredients, and after a rocky start - because for some reason she’d found it beneath herself to take notes when the assignments were given out and they’d had to rely on Pansy’s notes alone - they had found a way of working together.

Pansy almost felt comfortable again at Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

 

Ginny entered the common room, humming to herself contentedly. She’d spent the last two hours in the library with Pansy, researching for their Potions project, and it had been strangely enjoyable. Pansy’s dry sense of humour made everything more interesting. 

But her good mood disappeared when she was accosted by Ron and Harry, who tugged her over to a quiet corner. Ron’s face was a strange shade of puce, a sure sign he was angry, and Harry just looked uncomfortable.

“What’s this thing you’re doing with Parkinson?” Ron asked, never one for subtleties or tact. Hermione joined them a moment later, a scowl on her face, putting a hand on Ron’s arm to try and calm him down.

Ginny shrugged her brother off and frowned at him. “We work together for some of our classes. I don’t see the problem, Ronald.”

“She wanted to hand Harry over to Voldemort!”

Ginny’s frown deepened. “So? I’m sure she wasn’t the only one who thought about doing that when that monster stood at the gates of Hogwarts, threatening to attack. She just happened to be the one to say it out loud.”

“Ron…” Hermione tugged at his arm, trying to get him away, but he wouldn’t listen.

“So now you’re betraying Harry, too? First you break things off with him and now you become friends with the one person who tried to hand him over? Even Malfoy didn’t do that, and he had more at stake than Parkinson ever did.”

“Ron, don’t…” Harry tried to stop him, too, but he was having none of it.

“Is that how you show loyalty? Honestly, Gin, I can understand you want to make an effort for _inter-house unity_ , but Parkinson is one step too far.”

Ginny took a deep breath. She could feel her skin burning in rage and humiliation. Everyone in the common room was looking at them, some nodding in agreement, others just enjoying the drama.

“You’re an idiot, Ronald,” Ginny hissed. “How are we supposed to move on from the war if we can’t let go of the past?”

“Fred didn’t die for this.” Ron’s blue eyes glinted angrily as he said the words.

Ginny gasped, the memory of the brother she had lost searing through her heart.

“Ron, that’s enough,” Hermione was saying, but Ginny hardly noticed. The comment had made the blood rush through her veins, buzzing loudly in her ears.

“You fucking moron. Fred was my brother too, and I miss him, too! But living with resentment only makes the present worse, and taints the past. Fred wouldn’t want us to live in the past. He’d want us to move on. Well, I’m not holding Pansy’s past against her, I’m fucking moving on. The war is over, the trials have ended. I’m moving on.”

“By befriending a fucking slag? You know she’s like the Slytherin broomstick, right? She’s just using you…”

Ginny slapped him right across the cheek, making him shut up. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare judge anyone. It’s not like you are all that innocent, Ronald Weasley, and don’t pretend you are. Who cares if she’s sleeping around or not? Who cares what she did in the past? I can’t keep living in the past. I’m moving on. And you had best do the same.”

She eyed Harry defiantly. “Anything to add?”

Harry shook his head, still looking uncomfortable, but with some admiration. “Be friends with whoever you like, Gin. Just, take care, alright?”

Ginny turned her gaze to Hermione who shrugged. “I told him to let it go, Ginny. And I told you,” she continued, turning to Ron, “that Ginny wouldn’t accept this kind of behaviour. I’m not going to heal your jaw, Ron. Go to Madam Pomfrey if you need help.” She nodded sharply at Ginny, turned on her heel and went back to her desk.

Ron only glared at his sister before stalking off, his hand cradling the painful jaw, Harry close on his heels.

Ginny could feel the disapproval of everyone else in the common room, as tangible as thick fog. She slowly drew out her wand and twirled it around in her hand. “Anyone else anything to say about my friendship with Pansy Parkinson?”

One by one, the other Gryffindors returned to their activities, resuming conversations, turning another page in their books, and generally ignoring her. Ginny felt a stab of disappointment.

Neville appeared by her side. “You can’t take on the whole common room,” he whispered in her ear.

“I grew up with six brothers. Let me assure you, I can.” Again the memory of Fred pierced her heart and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“I just meant to say,” Neville said, in a soothing voice, “that you wouldn’t be alone. I have your back.”

Ginny turned to him and smiled, some of the tension finally releasing from her body. “Thanks, Neville.”

He smiled back at her. “No problem. And tell Parkinson I’d be happy to pair up with her for Herbology, if she can keep it civil.”

 

* * *

 

Gossip about the fight flew around the castle like Fiendfyre, and eventually reached the Slytherin common room.

“Looks like your little girlfriend is on the outs with her friends,” Hestia Carrow said with barely concealed glee. 

Pansy looked up from her homework with a bored expression. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Carrow.”

“The little Weasley girl had a big fight with her brother, apparently,” Flora Carrow said in a loud whisper that managed to attract the attention of just about everyone in the room. “About you.” The twins giggled. “I’ve no idea what you thought you could accomplish hitching yourself to her, but it’s clearly not working. Her star is falling rapidly in Gryffindor Tower.” 

Pansy tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in her stomach. “Weasley wanted to work with me for some Potions project, Carrow, I couldn’t care less what happens to her outside of that.” The lie tasted like ashes in her mouth, but she couldn’t tell the truth, that her first instinct upon hearing about the fight was to get up and find Ginny and make sure she was alright.

“Perhaps that is so,” Hestia said, with a toothy smile that was not at all reassuring, “but it seems she feels differently.”

“Leave off, Hestia,” Theodore Nott said, in a bored voice. “Common room drama is _so_ Gryffindor.”

The twins exchanged a glance but at a glare from Theo, they subsided and left Pansy alone.

Pansy couldn’t forget what they’d said, though, and noticed the next day that they hadn’t exaggerated. Ginny walked out of the Great Hall on her own, without the usual friends and admirers that followed her around everywhere. A few Gryffindors who passed her gave her the cold shoulder and even Potter didn’t seem to talk to her when they crossed paths in the hallway.

Pansy kept to herself that day, arriving at her classes at the very last moment, slipping into whatever seat that was available and not next to Ginny, leaving as soon as the bell announced the end of that period. Ginny tried to catch her attention, but Pansy studiously ignored her. Transfiguration was suddenly a drag. Defense became torture. And then they had Potions together. She couldn’t avoid Ginny there, but she still kept her distance, only responding to questions with one-syllable words and avoiding Ginny’s eyes.

She could have known that Ginny wouldn’t let her get away with it. As soon as Slughorn turned his back and disappeared into his private office, Ginny grabbed Pansy’s arm and hissed in her ear, “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

Pansy glanced around but nobody seemed to pay them any attention. “Saving your bloody reputation, Weasley,” she hissed back. That seemed to surprise Ginny, as she let go of Pansy’s arm and leaned back in her seat, staring at Pansy with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Pansy tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in her stomach and lifted her chin defiantly. “Make yourself useful and go grab us some flobberworms, Weasley, we need them for this potion.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed angrily but she got up and disappeared into the ingredients cupboard. A moment later she was back, slamming a jar with flobberworms onto their workbench. “Anything else?” she bit out.

Pansy felt even more uncomfortable. She started grinding the amethyst to fine powder. She didn’t look at Ginny, but couldn’t stop herself from explaining. “Look, I heard about the fight with your brother. You shouldn’t go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m poison in this school and I taint anyone who associates with me. You should ask Slughorn if you can have another partner.”

Ginny was cutting up some mandrake roots, but her hand stopped mid-movement, the knife hovering in the air. She said, so softly Pansy almost didn’t hear it, “It was just my brother being an idiot, Pansy. Hermione and Harry are fine, they neither of them bear you any grudges.”

“But your family…”

“Can go hang,” Ginny said with such ferocity it surprised Pansy. “Like I told Ron, I want to move on. I don’t care what people say or think about me. If they expect me to keep up old grudges _just because_ , they learned nothing from the war, or from the price we had to pay.” There were tears in her eyes now. Pansy remembered Ginny had lost a brother. She’d always secretly liked the twins. She patted Ginny’s arm, a little awkwardly. Their friendship had never really included physical proximity.

Ginny wiped her eyes with one hand and shrugged. “I’m fine. Fred… I miss him. But Ron needs to grow up. The names he called you…”

Pansy stiffened. She’d heard those details, too, when Daphne and Tracey were discussing the latest gossip in their bedroom, both under the impression she had already fallen asleep. “He wasn’t entirely wrong,” she said, pushing the words out of her mouth. She knew her reputation was ruined, it wouldn’t help to deny the truth.

“People are just hypocrites,” Ginny said. “A guy sleeps around and he’s some kind of hero. A girl does the same and she’s a slag. Fucking double standards.” She grinned suddenly. “Slapping my brother was so satisfying.”

Pansy still wasn’t convinced that continuing this friendship was a good idea. She had the feeling it would end just like every other person she’d been close to. With enough public pressure, Ginny, too, would eventually abandon her. She glanced at the girl next to her, at the freckles on her nose and the kind brown eyes that could flash gold with anger, and the quirky smile on her lips as she remembered slapping her brother.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Ginny said, breaking the silence between them.

“I… I guess we are,” Pansy answered, a little taken aback.

 

* * *

 

October came and went, and finally the first Quidditch match of the season was announced. Gryffindor would play Ravenclaw. 

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Ginny asked Pansy, her cheeks still flushed from the training session she had just returned from.

Pansy hadn’t planned on it, but she nodded nonetheless.

And that was how she found herself trudging towards the Quidditch pitch, a little behind her other housemates. Someone put their arm through hers, and Pansy looked up in surprise, only to find that Hermione Granger was by her side. “What are you doing, Granger?” First Ginny started being nice to her, then Longbottom had taken her under his wing in Herbology and raised her grade from a sure T to an A, and now Granger? She didn’t like the idea she was the Gryffindor charity case.

“Ginny told me you were coming. Why don’t you join me? You’ll have a better view than from the Slytherin stands, you know. Harry and Ron are keeping some seats for us.”

Pansy blinked, then gestured at her silver and green scarf. “You can’t take a snake into the Lion’s den, Granger.”

To her surprise, Granger whipped out her wand, muttered a spell, and a moment later silver had changed to gold and emerald to ruby. “There. Now you can blend in. Come on!”

Pansy doubted she would blend in, but, against her reason, she let Granger drag her up to the Gryffindor stands, where Potter and Weasley had, indeed, saved some seats. Weasley turned an unattractive shade of puce at the sight of her, but apart from spluttering something under his breath she chose to ignore, he didn’t say anything. Potter raised his eyebrows at Hermione, then shrugged and made space for them.

“I hope the new Seeker is worth her salt,” Potter muttered, looking at the two teams that had just come out onto the pitch. He nodded towards a scrappy girl, about a head smaller than the broom she carried, with her hair tied into pigtails.

“That Keeper didn’t look up to much in training, either,” Weasley said, in an equally morose tone.

Pansy snorted into her gold-and-ruby scarf. “Frustrated about McGonagall telling the returning Seventh years they are not allowed to participate in the school Quidditch matches?” Hermione rolled her eyes and nodded, an expression of long suffering on her face. “Draco’s just the same,” Pansy added, a little louder. “Can’t let go. Hates to be sitting in the stands watching other people fly. He nags about it day and night.”

“Are you comparing us to Malfoy, Parkinson?” Potter asked. He’d raised an eyebrow at her, scowling a little but with a flicker of amusement in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed.

Pansy had no chance to respond. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the players were off. The stands erupted in loud cheers that would have drowned out even a Giant, and a moment later the quaffle started changing hands, moving from Ginny to another Gryffindor player, only to be intercepted by a Ravenclaw.

Pansy was swept up in the excitement on the stands, forgetting she was among Gryffindors, forgetting she was cheering for a different team. She jumped up when Ginny scored the first goal, gripped Granger’s hand when the new Seeker narrowly escaped a bludger, held her breath when Ginny regained the quaffle and defied both Ravenclaw Beaters and the three Chasers with an impressive swiftness only to make another goal, and soon another.

Pansy’s eyes were riveted on Ginny, watching her as she egged on her team, cursed at the Ravenclaws, skillfully handled the quaffle and scored another ten goals before the new Gryffindor Seeker went into a dive straight to the ground. The Ravenclaw Seeker was close on her tail, closer still, almost catching up, and the ground came closer and closer. Granger clung to Pansy’s arm so tightly, she could feel the tingling of cut off blood vessels in her fingers, but she didn’t move, too entranced by the game.

The Gryffindor Seeker then pulled up her broom, mere feet from the ground and made her way up again, quite leisurely. The Ravenclaw seeker was too late and tumbled onto the ground while in the process of trying to pull up. Loud roars erupted from the stands as the Seeker grinned up at her Captain, and Ginny gave her the thumbs up. The game continued, even more fiercely. Gryffindor was winning 170-100, but the Snitch was nowhere in sight. Ginny was indefatigable. She soared across the pitch, chasing the quaffle, scoring points, giving the Keeper a pep talk and the Beaters a stern talking to after a sloppily aimed bludger nearly knocked their own Keeper from his broom.

Pansy almost forgot to breathe when Ginny led a hawkshead attack and scored three more times, before excited noises in the stands indicated the Snitch had been spotted, and, indeed, both Seekers flew neck and neck towards a glimmer of gold that seemed to disappear as soon as she’d noticed it. But the Seekers didn’t hesitate, swerving up, then right, then down again, hands stretching out in a desperate attempt to win the game for their team. The other players hovered in the air, watching the two who could decide the game. The people around her were roaring encouragement, making a deafening noise that Pansy normally wouldn’t have appreciated, but she was yelling as loud as any of them.

Gryffindor won, just. The red and gold stands erupted in cheers and celebration. Hermione embraced Pansy, yelling excitedly, “We won, we won, we won!” And Pansy couldn’t help but join in. She was engulfed in a throng of people descending the stands to meet their team on the pitch, and laughed and cheered with them. She hadn’t enjoyed a Quidditch game like that in ages.

But once on the pitch, she was pushed to the side while the Gryffindors surrounded their players, hoisting Ginny and the Seeker on their shoulders and carrying them around with chants of victory. Pansy watched from the shadows. She was glorious, eyes blazing gold with excitement, her long red hair, now loosened from its braid, trailing behind her, her cheeks flushed and a big smile on her lips.

“Weasley is our Queen,” the Gryffindors began to sing, and Pansy smiled ruefully. Draco would be appalled to know his song had endured the test of time, celebrating the family he had tried to bring down with it.

Pansy wanted to go up to Ginny, hug her, congratulate her, _kiss her full on the lips and never let her go._

She froze. She couldn’t shake the thought, couldn’t shake the image of holding that Ginny in her arms, victorious, golden, vibrant.

Just at that moment, Ginny saw her and waved at her. Pansy wanted to wave back. She wanted to smile and give her a thumbs up, but she couldn’t move. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breath came quick and shallow.

Then Ginny’s attention was claimed by someone else and the moment was lost. Pansy turned away. This was for the Gryffindors to celebrate. She had no place among them. She trudged back to the castle. The gold and ruby scarf she stuffed in the pocket of her robe. She didn’t change it back.

 

* * *

 

Ginny settled into her seat next to Pansy. Slughorn was writing instructions on the blackboard and nobody paid attention to them. “Did I do something wrong?” She studied Pansy’s face as she asked the question, but couldn’t read her reaction. She blushed a little, that was all. 

“Probably,” Pansy answered with an airy laugh that was just a little too contrived. “So you better apologise in advance.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head, annoyed. “You’ve been off.” She wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Ever since the Quidditch game. Disappointed Gryffindor won? Thinking Slytherin will have a harder time winning the Cup?” 

Pansy’s cheeks reddened some more. She busied herself taking notes, one shoulder giving Ginny a careless shrug. She didn’t respond. 

For a while their attention was caught by the potion they had to brew, but when all the ingredients were added and the requisite clockwise and anti-clockwise stirs were taken care of, Ginny decided to try and get Pansy to talk to her again. She was getting frustrated, really frustrated. Pansy hadn’t joked with her all week, hadn’t even laughed at her pranks. She seemed to have avoided Ginny by staying in the Slytherin common room more often. Ginny had asked Harry to borrow the Marauder’s map to figure out how to find her, so she knew. But asking bold questions wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Pansy was about as stubborn as herself. So she decided to take a different approach.

“Why didn’t you come to the party after the game? I’d asked Hermione to invite you.” And Hermione had told her Pansy had quite rudely declined. 

Pansy gave another careless, elegant shrug and tucked her hair behind her ear. She didn’t quite look at Ginny.  “I just… thought it was something for you Gryffindors to celebrate together.”

“I’d have liked you to be there,” Ginny said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Pansy’s eyes flicked towards hers, as if she wanted to make sure Ginny wasn’t lying. Then she faced the blackboard again. “Snakes don’t belong in a lion’s den.” Another irritating shrug. Another roundabout answer. Ginny was about to explode.

She pressed her lips together and turned away from Pansy, more determined than ever to find out what was wrong. She didn’t speak to Pansy again, not even when Slughorn told them their potion was perfect and dismissed them from class. She packed her bag and stalked out of the classroom without even saying goodbye.

“Ginny?”

Pansy’s voice rang through the empty corridor. Ginny turned around, trying to curb her anger. Pansy walked up to her, an uncertain smile on her face. “I never said… You flew an excellent game. You should be very proud. I’m sure any professional Quidditch team would be happy to take you.”

Ginny let her breath escape with a hiss. “Thank you.” She turned and continued on her way, leaving Pansy in the potions corridor.

 

* * *

 

Pansy made an effort after that to be her usual self, scathing comments and biting sarcasm and all. Yet things weren’t quite the same. There was a shadow in Ginny’s eyes she hadn’t noticed before, a distance between them that only emphasised how close they’d been before. And she missed that closeness now. 

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Ginny asked one evening as they sat together working on an Arithmancy question in the Library. 

Pansy nibbled the end of her quill thoughtfully. “Mother said something about going to Paris. She doesn’t want to stay at home now my father…” Her voice trailed off. She knew her father deserved to be in Azkaban. But he was still her father. 

Ginny only squeezed her hand. She wasn’t one for words of comfort, and Pansy didn’t need to hear them. Words were empty anyway. But the gesture warmed her heart. She shook the melancholy that threatened to overtake her away and returned the question. “What about you?” 

Ginny shrugged, her face clouding over. “Just Christmas at home, I think. We don’t really have any plans. It’ll be the first time since…” She paused, swallowed and took a deep breath. Her voice was a little shaky when she continued. “Since Fred died. I don’t think it will be a very happy Christmas.” 

“The first time is always worst. It gets a little easier after that, a little less painful.” Pansy sighed. “You just get used to the pain really. It’s not that you miss them any less.” 

“We’re throwing a party at Harry’s place, though,” Ginny said, in a brighter tone. “On New Year’s Eve. Celebrate we’re alive and ring in the New Year, you know what it’s like. Won’t you come?” 

“You can’t just invite me to someone else’s party, Weasley,” Pansy said sharply. Her words covered the confusion in her heart. 

“Harry will invite you if I ask him.” 

Pansy saw Ginny’s fond smile as she pronounced the Chosen One’s name and her heart shattered. She stood up abruptly. “I need to go.” She began to pack her notes and quills into her bag. “I may not be back yet from Paris. Mother said we may stay there until it is time for me to return to Hogwarts. Don’t bother asking Potter.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at Ginny, see that face again, those brown eyes golden with adoration for… not her. She’d have to make sure she got over this redhead in Paris. Plenty of witches and wizards there to distract her.

“Pansy…” Ginny sounded confused, hesitant. Hurt.

“I just forgot I’m supposed to meet someone now. I’ll see you in Potions tomorrow, yeah?” And with a wave vaguely in Ginny’s direction, Pansy left. She could hardly see where she was going, didn’t hear any voices through the thunder of her own heart in her ears.

 

* * *

 

“What was that all about?” Hermione asked as she slid into the seat Pansy had just vacated. “Parkinson didn’t even say hello. She usually at least deigns to sneer in my direction.” Hermione grinned at Ginny, but there was no responding laugh. Her grin faded into a frown. “What’s wrong?” 

Ginny shrugged and crossed her arms. “I invited her to Harry’s party and she got all weird. I don’t know what’s wrong with her! I mean, she was weird after the Quidditch game, but then things seemed to come back to normal, and we were just talking and all of a sudden she stormed off.” She paused, then added, pensively, “ She was lying, too.” 

With a few more probing questions, Hermione got the whole story out of Ginny. She couldn’t help grinning again. “And you have no idea what is wrong?”

Ginny slammed her fist on the table, then looked around to see if Madam Pince was anywhere near. “No, I do not,” she bit out.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation, then took out her books and began to read up on her Ancient Runes homework. “You’ll figure it out,” she muttered under her breath.

Ginny opened her mouth to retort but Hermione just held up a hand to silence her and continued reading. She crossed her arms instead and glared at every passer-by. Damn Pansy and her strange mood swings. Where was the girl she had so much fun with? Where was the wit and sarcasm? Where was the girl she’d fallen in love with?

The thought seemed to follow quite naturally, but the words took her by surprise nonetheless. In love? Was she in love? Was Pansy? Her cheeks began to burn with mortification. What if she didn’t love her back? Or worse, what if she _did_?

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy had grown tired of Paris within three hours of their arrival. Her mother had booked a luxurious suite for each of them, and at first it had been wonderful - exhilarating even, after a whole term in the Slytherin dorms - to enjoy the lush carpet underneath her feet; to run a bath with golden and silver bubbles in a bathroom with view of the illuminated Eiffel Tower, and jump onto the massive bed with silver canopy and drown in the feather-soft mattress. However, after three hours, she was bored. The shops had closed by the time they’d arrived, and her mother had been too tired to go out for dinner. Ordering room service was nice, but lonely. 

That loneliness stretched out before her, three long weeks of it. Three long weeks far away from her housemates, far away from Hogwarts, far away from everyone, even people she didn’t particularly want to think of. Like Ginny.

She’d found herself thinking of Ginny at the most inane moments. Walking along the Seine in the melting snow. Browsing a book stall with ancient Potions books. Looking at the spectacle of the Eiffel Tower lights. Coming across a gorgeous dark green dress in a little boutique in the Marais. Whenever she saw a girl with fiery red hair, though it was never quite the right shade.

She hadn’t spoken to Ginny much since that moment in the library, and it hurt. It hurt to think that not only would she never love her, now she’d lost the only friend she had left in the world, too.

She kicked at a pebble on the path of the Jardin du Luxembourg and then settled into one of the icy seats around the empty fountain, her warming charm keeping her from freezing. Christmas had come and gone and she hadn’t heard from Ginny. She hadn’t sent her anything, either, of course, but that was beside the point. Ginny wouldn’t have expected some sappy Christmas card from Pansy, but she had thought Gryffindors were into that kind of thing. They seemed like the type.

Pansy exhaled slowly and watched her breath form clouds in the cold afternoon air. She missed Ginny. She missed Hogwarts. She didn’t ever want to come back to Paris again.

An owl landed on her lap, hooting angrily and holding out a claw with a slip of parchment. Pansy looked around quickly, but none of the Muggles seemed to pay her any attention. She accepted the slip of parchment, and the owl flew off before she had a chance to offer it a treat.

She unfolded it, read the content and dropped it in her lap with an exclamation of surprise. The wind nearly blew it away, but she caught it just in time, and read more slowly.

 

_Harry Potter lives at 12, Grimmauld Place, London. You are invited to the New Year’s Eve party on 31 December, 10pm._

 

Then, in equally squiggly handwriting, it said;

 

_I’m serious Parkinson, come over. I promise you won’t be the only Slytherin. HP_

 

Another line of more elegant script said:

 

_Be there, Parkinson. Or I will find you and make you. Hermione_

 

Pansy crumpled the parchment in her hands. It was the 29th now. She had some time to think it over. She put the crumpled up parchment in her coat pocket and remained in her cold seat, staring at the empty fountain in the Jardin du Luxembourg, trying to make out shapes in every exhaled breath, and tried ignoring the parchment in her pocket, though it burned like fire through all her layers of clothing.

 

* * *

 

 

The party was in full swing when Pansy arrived. She was late, of course - the best people are always late. She stepped out of the Floo and surveyed the madness that surrounded her. People were laughing, dancing, drinking, all in small clusters; fireworks continually going off above their heads, champagne pouring from a seemingly bottomless bottle into a pyramid of elegant crystal cups, and more Gryffindors than she’d ever had the displeasure of seeing in one small room.

Someone pushed a drink in her hand, someone else dragged her away from the fireplace and into the fray, and Pansy had no choice but to let them. There were too many people, too much noise, and not enough people around for her to talk to, but the music was good, the alcohol exquisite, so Pansy decided not to care. She pretended not to notice the curious glances some people sent her way.

The assault was entirely unexpected. Strong arms pulled her into a hug, wild curls finding their way into her mouth and nearly suffocating her in the process, and an excited giggle echoed in her ear.

“So glad you came,” Granger slurred, giving her an uncharacteristic kiss on the cheek. “Come, Theo and Draco are here, too. In t’ other room.”

Drunk-Granger was certainly an interesting sight to behold, and even more so when she tumbled into Draco’s arms and he didn’t let her go. It didn’t stop his argument with Neville Longbottom, however, and he continued to shout, at the top of his lungs, “You’re an idiot, Longbottom. The Cannons will never win the League. Even if they were demoted to the Mini-league, they wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

Theo waved at her, a little awkwardly. Neville had his arm around his waist and leaned into him rather intimately.

Pansy realised with a pang that there had been a lot going on, that past term, that she hadn’t noticed. Her former friends had found love in the arms of Gryffindors. But the one Gryffindor she wanted to see was nowhere in sight. A flash of bright red hair made her heart soar, only to realise, moments later, that it was one of the innumerable brothers.

“She’s in the kitch’n.”

Pansy pretended to be confused. “Who?”

Granger sent her a less than inconspicuous wink and nudged her in the side with a very pointy elbow. “Gin. Kitch’n.” She pointed vaguely towards the other end of the corridor. “Down there.”

“I wasn’t looking for her.”

Hermione laughed and tried to roll her eyes. She almost fell down again.

“Honestly, Granger, if you can’t hold your liquor, why bother? A waste of good champagne,” Pansy said.

“Not that drunk yet,” Hermione mumbled. She threw an arm around Pansy’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in Pansy’s ear, “Don’t be a fool, Parkinson. Always thought you weren’t really stupid. Attention seeker, maybe. Grew out of it. But never stupid. Right? Find her.”

Pansy noticed the amused glances Draco and Theo exchanged. Her cheeks turned crimson and she turned on her heel, leaving the room. She wasn’t in search of the kitchen, really. Just to escape from a very drunk, and very indiscreet, Hermione Granger.

So, since she wasn’t looking for the kitchen, it was very strange that she ended up just there, anyway. She looked in through the doorway and her heart stopped. Ginny was there, but so was Harry Potter. Harry Potter, with his hands cupped around Ginny’s face and staring into her eyes as if there was nothing else in the world, and Ginny looking back at him, with a pleading look in her eyes.

Pansy couldn’t help gasping and they sprang apart at the sound. They both looked a little uncomfortable.

“Thank you for the invitation, Potter,” Pansy heard herself say. Her eyes were firmly trained on him. She couldn’t bear to look at Ginny. “Good party you have here.” She tipped her glass in his direction. “And a very nice champagne, too. I’d expected nothing much better than hippogriff piss, but it seems you have more taste than that, after all.” 

Potter ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. “Black wine cellar,” he muttered. 

Pansy nodded thoughtfully. “That explains it.” She noticed Ginny was moving towards her from the corner of her eye. “I need to go, though. But thanks again.” She was just a little too slow. A hand closed around her wrist and pulled her further into the kitchen. 

“Don’t leave,” Ginny said. “Please.” Her eyes went to Harry, that pleading look she had noticed before back. “Harry?”

Potter shrugged. “I need to mingle,” he said, in an almost casual tone. And a moment later he was gone.

Pansy couldn’t move. Ginny’s hand on her wrist was burning into her skin. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You shouldn’t leave before midnight,” Ginny said, with a strained laugh. “Bad luck not to ring in the New Year properly.”

“I’m sure a few minutes won’t make a difference.”

Ginny’s grip on Pansy’s wrist tightened and Pansy flinched. “Pansy, why do you keep running away?”

Trust a Gryffindor to lack tact and subtlety. Pansy wasn’t used to direct questions. They were much more difficult to evade. “I’m not.”

Ginny moved around her until they stood face to face, so close Pansy could have counted all her freckles, if she wanted. And oh, she did want.

“You are, though. You didn’t write. You hardly talk.” Ginny took a deep breath, as if gathering courage for what she was about to say. Pansy closed her eyes, willing herself to keep calm. “Did I do something wrong? Say something that made you not want to be my friend any more? Can’t you tell me, so I can make it up to you?”

Pansy shook her head almost before the words formed in her head. “I… Look, it’s nothing you did. It’s nothing at all.”

Excited noises filtered down from the rooms above, a loud explosion of fireworks shook the cutlery and plates around them.

“Pansy, I need to tell you something. About Harry…”

 

A muffled shout of “TEN”.

 

Pansy shook her head again. _Please don’t tell me._

“The only reason he invited you was because I asked him.

 

“NINE”

 

Pansy opened her eyes and tried to smile. “I knew he wouldn’t have invited me out of the goodness of his heart, Weasley.” Ginny flinched when she used her last name.

 

“EIGHT”

 

Pansy sniffed. The air was stale with cold food, alcohol and fireworks. She knew, with absolute certainty, that she would never forget that particular scent. “I hope you will be very happy with him.”

 

“SEVEN”

 

Ginny looked surprised. “What? You don’t mean…” 

Pansy twisted her wrist out of Ginny’s grasp and tried to leave, but Ginny grabbed her arm with both hands and made her turn back.

 

“SIX”

 

Ginny cupped her face and stepped a little closer. Pansy saw the golden flecks in her brown eyes. She couldn’t look away. She almost didn’t hear Ginny say, “Pansy, you have it all wrong!”

 

“FIVE”

 

Pansy swallowed. Ginny’s hand on her cheek, Ginny’s eyes so close, Ginny’s scent surrounding her. It was too much. She only just stopped herself from leaning into the touch.

 

“FOUR”

 

“I’m not getting back together with Harry. We broke up before the war and never got back together again.”

 

“THREE”

 

“Actually, we tried but it wasn’t quite right. And I’m glad it didn’t work out.”

 

“TWO”

 

“Because I fell in love with someone else.”

 

“ONE”

 

Pansy could barely breathe. “Who?”

 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

 

Ginny pressed herself onto the tips of her toes until her mouth was barely an inch from Pansy’s. “Do you really have to ask?” Her breath ghosted over Pansy’s face, her nose nudged Pansy’s softly, and then they were kissing. Soft lips, scraping teeth, hungry tongues, hands everywhere. They were kissing and kissing and Pansy forgot all about the world. She ran her hands through Ginny’s long hair, over her shoulders, cheeks, sides, everywhere she could reach while her tongue hungrily explored Ginny’s mouth.

They broke apart, panting, but holding onto each other closely.

“You can be an idiot, sometimes, Pansy,” Ginny said, with a fond smile.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, but the effect of her look of disdain was foiled by her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Then she smiled back and leaned in again, pressing their mouths together in a soft kiss. It was the perfect way to ring in the New Year.


End file.
